Four funerals and a wedding
by squarey
Summary: This follows Bobby through four funerals and a wedding, and inner conflict, and a friendship, and a bit of a murder thing. Uses the same OC from An Adage For a Friend. Complete for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, the wonderful LOCI characters are not mine. But I dearly love thinking about them, and writing about them. Lucy Jones is an OC from two of my prior stories – "The Doctor Is In" and "An Adage For A Friend". If you would like to know Lucy, you might read those first.

* * *

Bobby Goren hated funerals. But there he was, at a funeral, his large frame crammed into a small pew. At least he was sitting on the end of the hard wooden bench. He had his left arm extended along the back of the pew, partly to comfort who he was with, partly for the shoulder space. 

Bobby looked over at the dark wildly curly hair of the woman tucked under his arm. He would do just about anything for Lucy Jones, including coming to this funeral with her. He could feel her take a shallow ragged breath. She looked pale, tired. Her eyes looked enormous in her heart shaped face, and his heart felt heavy that she should feel so sad.

"Let us pray." The priest announced and practically everyone in the church bowed their head in silence. Bobby remained still for a moment, observing the somber faces of the mourners in the church. Though, after a few moments he inexplicably found himself praying to god, though he thought his was a selfish prayer, for he prayed for the health and happiness of the woman sitting next to him, he prayed for the safety of his partner at work, he prayed that his life maintain some semblance of stability, he prayed that he not experience any more loss. He honestly didn't know if his soul could withstand one more thing.

Then, everyone was standing, turning and shaking hands, embracing, kissing each other on the cheek. When Lucy turned into him, he held her close in his arms, she was a perfect fit, and he could feel her sniff in tears as he held her easily against him.

"I'm sorry, I, uh, just um…" Lucy started to apologize for her tears. Bobby simply wiped them away with his thumb, wondering why she would possibly feel the need to apologize for having such a generous, feeling heart.

"I think we need to file out." Bobby said, softly cutting her off, pointing out that their pew was next in leaving the church and the people they were blocking actually looked a bit restless. Lucy nodded, her hazel eyes still wet. He watched her wipe them with the back of her hand, so he reached in his pocket and handed her his handkerchief. She took it, but did not use it, she simply held it in her hand as they walked out of the church.

Bobby couldn't decide which he liked less, the funeral in the funeral home, the funeral in the church, or maybe he hated the whole grave side thing. He knew he hated the visiting the house part, the members of the family, the close friends, all milling around in someone's home eating, drinking, feeling somber, feeling sad, just feeling.

"I'm so sorry." When they were outside on the church steps, Lucy stepped forward, hugging the grieving mother tightly. The mother was nodding, as Lucy hugged her. Bobby could not hear what Lucy was saying, but the woman looked comforted, she even smiled every so slightly. Bobby thought that Lucy always knew the exact right thing to say, often times it was the unexpected thing, but it always seemed to be perfect.

Lucy stepped back toward the warmth of him. It was a cold, winter afternoon, and the biting wind brought tears even to the few dry eyes of the people headed toward their cars. Bobby reflected over his detachment. Sometimes he simply couldn't shake the cop inside of himself. He looked across the dark suits, the dark dresses, the dark scarves and coats. He looked into people's faces. This child's murder, this child's death, was unsolved. He looked over at the cars parked on the street and easily picked out two detectives from another precinct. They were working the case, they were looking for the same thing he was, some information, some clue, some lead, that would help solve the case.

He was brought back to the present by the cold feel of Lucy's slender hand as she placed it within his. She squeezed his hand slightly, to get his attention, to get him moving toward the car. The deceased was Megan Willis, her mother lived near Lucy, a neighbor of sorts. The kind of person Lucy probably smiled at, chit chatted with while getting the mail. The kind of person that Bobby probably did not notice in his world, but that Lucy always noticed and took the time to get to know.

As Bobby drove, staying in line with the funeral procession, his brain sifted through what he knew of the case. Megan Willis had been staying with her father for the weekend. Her body was found Saturday evening just before dusk. She was just 15 years old. Her father hadn't even realized anything was wrong. She had headed off to a friends house just after lunch, and wasn't supposed to be home until after dinner. She had walked the route a thousand times before. Where she was found was not part of the route. At first it appeared as if it was an accident, as if she had fallen from a retaining wall. However, further investigation of the scene revealed that there had been a struggle, and that not all of her injuries were a result of the fall.

Bobby looked over at Lucy who was looking out the window. The car was warm, outside was cold, so the window was slightly fogged. He watched her tracing a path in the condensation of the window with her finger.

"I just saw her, you know, just Thursday. She was coming in from school with her mom. Just the other day." Lucy said, she sighed heavily, and turned to look at Bobby. He knew that part of the reason Lucy felt this so deeply was that she had a nephew about the same age as Megan Willis, a nephew who probably walked to his friend's house a thousand times before. "And you think it wasn't an accident?" Lucy asked, and Bobby knew that Lucy was using the word "you" to mean NYPD.

"There are some things that are inconsistent with an accident." Bobby allowed, not wanting to talk with Lucy about what he knew of the case. They were in the car on the way to the cemetery. He could see her eyes well with tears. She shook her head and returned to looking out the window. He realized that for a long time he had been coasting, skating through life, not feeling much. But watching Lucy cry, watching her cry over the death of a child, made his gut wrench. This was not his case, but he planned to check in with Captain Ross about getting access to the details, perhaps consult with Eames a bit, then maybe talk with the detectives assigned to the case. He knew that he couldn't really help Lucy by talking about it with her, but he could help by helping to close the case.

He pulled the car to a stop, put it in park. He braced himself against the cold and got out the car, coming around to open her door.

"Thanks, thanks for this." She said softly.

"I don't mind driving you around." He smiled. "Let's just hope Captain Ross doesn't realize I moonlight as someone's driver." He said, wanting to see her smile, just a fraction. And, she did, her full lips curved into the slightest smile.

He remembered the day he had been on the phone with Lucy's office assistant, Helen. He remembered hearing Lucy's sister Laura in the background yelling at Helen to dial 911. He remembered tripping over his desk chair to get out to the car, Eames dropped what she was doing to follow close behind, without asking for explanation. Eames had sped across the city, and followed him as he rushed into Lucy's office. There was blood on her desk, her blood on her desk, too much blood on her desk. His detective's detachment in a crisis escaped him that day; the thought of something happening to Lucy had been almost too much for his brain to take. Fortunately Eames had been there, she had taken charge. Bobby barely remembered the ride with Eames to the ER, he barely remembered almost trying to shake the information out of one of the ER nurses to understand Lucy's status. But he did remember Eames voice, her tone as she advised him to get a hold of himself. And he did, he barely got a hold of himself. Lucy had experienced a seizure, and to this day it still made him sick to think about it, to think that for all of the doctors she consulted, no one had an explanation. Because of the seizure, she couldn't drive for a while. So, he gladly volunteered to drive her around.

"Don't forget your hat." Bobby gestured to the car seat where she had left her hat. She turned to retrieve it from the seat. "I'm going to check on this, I'll follow-up on this." He said, circling back around to Lucy asking him whether he thought it was an accident. With her hat now in hand she turned toward him and she placed her palm lightly against his chest. He realized that she did that sometimes, as if feeling his heart was a comfort of sorts. He was puzzled by this, that his heart should be a comfort to anyone.

"Thanks." She said, tears again in her eyes. He nodded and walked with her, following the trail of the other mourners through the cemetery.

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**Author's remorse?:** Hopefully this is not really author's remorse, it is just an author's note to say that I felt like switching gears from first person and following Bobby around for a few chapters in something. As the title suggests (which I blatantly robbed and adapted from a fabulously funny/sweet movie), I plan to give you four funerals and a wedding. As always, reviews welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

In life, timing is everything. Unfortunately, outside of an interview room, timing wasn't exactly Bobby Goren's forte. In fact, timing was probably a liability. So when Bobby knocked lightly on Captain Ross's office to ask about contacting the detectives in charge of the Megan Willis case, he thought he was doing the right thing by clearing it with the captain, and in fact it would have been the right thing had his timing been just a little better.

"So you don't have enough to do, you would like to work on other detectives' cases, completely outside of Major Case?" Ross bit out at him. Bobby excused himself from the Captain's office and had returned to stew at his desk.

"What was that?" Eames looked over her shoulder where she could see the Captain scowling, violently leafing through some report.

"I just, well, I just, I wanted to get some details on a case." Bobby leaned back in his chair, so far that Eames thought that this was the day he was going to tip it over.

"What case?" Eames asked.

"Megan Willis." Bobby leaned forward again, this time leaning all the way forward so that he had his head in his hands on his desk. Eames again watched, thinking that maybe his chair would slide out from under him.

"Why?" Eames was a bit mesmerized by the punishment Bobby's chair took without ever giving way. She smiled to herself, realizing that she identified with his desk chair.

"Megan, well, Megan's mom, she's a neighbor of Lucy's." Bobby sat back, balanced normally on the chair for an instant.

"Did Lucy ask you to look into something?" Eames asked, knowing if patterns held true, Bobby was about to abruptly stand up. His agitation was palpable, and she knew he would not make it sitting still for much longer.

"No." Bobby replied, and jumped up from his chair, grabbing some stuff off his desk.

"What're doing?" Eames stood as well.

"We've got a work day, right?" Bobby snapped. "Well let's get to it." He grabbed his portfolio and his coat. Eames followed suit, and followed him out of the squad. They did have some things to chase down, unrelated to the Megan Willis case, but somehow Eames figured that the Willis case would work its way back into their day.

* * *

If timing was everything, Eames was pretty good. 

"The Captain cleared your call, to the detectives working the Willis case." Eames strolled over to the desk, her voice quiet. Bobby sat up suddenly, and again Eames found herself watching his chair. It really was a miracle of nature that it did not give way underneath his size, his violent jarring movements. She watched his reach for the phone without even a thank you. She reached her hand out, blocking him from dialing and quirked an eyebrow. She knew he had been making a conscious effort in terms of voicing some niceties. She recognized in part that this was the influence of Lucy Jones, but she didn't care. If she benefitted from it, she was going to make the most of it.

"Thanks Eames." Bobby said, without looking up at her. He was staring at her hand as if willing it to move.

"Anytime." She replied, and walked away.

* * *

"Lupo." Was the greeting Bobby received after he dialed.

"Yeah, this is Goren from Major Case." Bobby replied.

"OK." Lupo responded, and Bobby realized that maybe calling someone near the end of a shift was not the best timing.

"So you caught that Megan Willis case." Bobby plunged ahead.

"Yeah." Lupo responded, not exactly chatty on the phone.

"I've got an interest in that case." Bobby replied.

"Yeah, we made you at the funeral." Lupo gave more than a one word response.

"Right." Bobby said, thinking he had made them as well.

"What's your piece in this?" Lupo asked.

"Personal. Something for a friend." Bobby offered, switching the phone to his other ear, trying to ease into this. He really just wanted to drill Lupo with a bunch of questions and ask for the file. Lucy had mentioned once you catch more flies with honey. Bobby of course knew that, he just had a hard time always applying that particular approach.

"Personal." Lupo muttered.

"We could meet. At Paulie's." Bobby named a popular bar for the 2-7.

"Hang on." Lupo responded, and Bobby could hear Lupo talking with his partner. "We're in, you're buying." Lupo relplied, indicating Detective Green would be there as well.

"Good." Bobby replied.

"30 minutes." Lupo said and hung up before Bobby could say anything further.

* * *

Maybe actually consulting the watch he wore on his wrist would help a bit with timing. As he stood knocking on Lucy's door, it occurred to him that the reason she wasn't answering was that she was asleep. It was only about 11:00pm to him, but to her it was late, nowadays, on most nights past bed time late. He could see the entry way light turn on, and he could hear her throw the locks. 

"Bobby." She smiled sleepily up at him. "Come in." She stepped aside, her slippers, slipping on the wood floor in her doorway.

"You were asleep." Bobby said, walking inside.

"You are captain of the obvious, detective." Lucy replied, yawning. "Maybe, you should be detective obvious." Lucy smiled to herself, her sleepy humor not making much sense.

"Oh, I'm captain of the not-obvious." Bobby replied, smiling as well. He had spent the past few hours with Detectives Lupo and Green, talking shop, drinking, and then drinking some more. Well, at least he and Green were drinking some more. In the end, they had connected the Megan Willis case to another open homicide. After staring at the crime scene photos, Bobby had noticed a pattern of unique bruising. It was barely detectable, but once Bobby had pointed it out in Megan Willis, Green had recognized it as familiar from another case.

"Alright Mr. Not-obvious." She said. "What's not-obvious?" He watched her walk into her kitchen, and he followed along. He realized he had no intention of sharing anything about the case with her at this point. So, he wasn't exactly sure why he had come by. Though, he knew that the amount he had to drink probably had something to do with it. The adrenaline coursing through his veins by an apparent break in the case had him not feeling the least bit like going to sleep. Plus, he didn't like his empty apartment. Lucy's place felt more like a home, so home he came.

"Nothing." He said, and he could feel her looking at him, examining him. He knew that she knew he had something on his mind. He could see her gauging him, trying to decide if she should press him on it. Lucy had excellent timing, she knew just when to push and exactly when to let it be. Tonight, she let it be.

"I'm going to bed." She filled a glass of water and handed it to him. "You can either find your way home, or find your way to the couch." She walked by him and out of the kitchen. "Either way, lock up." She called over her shoulder.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading. And, thanks for reviewing :). I'm trying to warm back up to third person writing... I couldn't resist pulling in Cyrus Lupo. I have always had this thing for Jeremy Sisto. 


	3. Chapter 3

Four. By midway through his shift the next day, Bobby had identified four victims with a similar bruise pattern. He had been on the phone with Green and Lupo throughout the day, exchanging information. The bruises were a thumb and three fingers. In time line order of the victims, reaching back over the past 5 months, the first victim had the pattern high on her left thigh; the second victim around the left side of her rib cage; the third victim low on her left hip; and Megan Willis on her collar. Bobby was mystified that no one until now had made the connection across these victims.

"Goren, my office, now." Ross barked from his doorway. Bobby pushed his chair back from his desk and scanned the squad for Eames. When he realized she was no where in sight, he walked the short distance to the captain's office alone.

"Captain." Bobby said. Captain Ross stood, leaning against his desk. So, Bobby stood and leaned against the wall.

"I just got off the phone with Lieutenant Van Buren. She says that you helped Detectives Green and Lupo connect the Willis murder to three others." Ross glared at Bobby, who stood silently, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You could have mentioned that to me at any point today. But yet, Van Buren is the one to bring it to my attention." Ross offered, rubbing his hand across his face. Ross was clearly frustrated to have been left out of the loop. He stared at Bobby, waiting for an explanation. When he realized he was not going to get one, he continued. "Van Buren asked if she could borrow you for a shift or two." Ross continued, still glaring at Bobby waiting for him to say something, to say anything. "That seems like a fine idea at this point. It would be great not to see you for the next 48 hours or so." Ross finally said. Bobby simply nodded. "I'll square this with Eames." Ross added, meaning that Bobby could feel free to get his ass over to the 2-7 right away, and out of Ross's eye shot. Again, Bobby simply nodded.

After collecting up his stuff from his desk, Bobby was on his way out the door. He actually had a million things pop into his mind in response to Captain Ross, but he also realized that the majority of what he had wanted to say would have pissed the Captain off further. So, he had remained silent. This approach did not exactly ameliorate the Captain's frustration, but it did not exacerbate it either. And, in the end, Bobby had gotten what he wanted; he desperately wanted to work the Megan Willis case.

* * *

Bobby didn't exactly head directly over to the 2-7. Green and Lupo were staking out a funeral, surveilling a suspect related to another case. So, when he had texted Lupo, they had arranged to meet near the cemetery. Green and Lupo weren't trying for the undetected stake-out, in fact they wanted the suspect to know that he was being tailed. So, Bobby didn't have to be stealthy in his approach. He simply pulled his car to a loud halt behind Green and Lupo's vehicle, and moved to stand beside them as they leaned against their car. Lupo was eating and apple, Green was looking through binoculars while drinking a cup of coffee.

"The files are in the car." Green gestured to some heavy manila envelopes on the back seat of their car. Bobby looked, wanting get to right to it, but he stood for a moment next to Green and Lupo looking out over the cemetery, at the funeral. However, something else had caught his eye.

"Can I see those for a moment." Bobby asked. Green had set the binoculars aside, so he picked them up off the hood of the car and handed them to Bobby.

Bobby looked out across the cemetery, but he did not look at the funeral at hand. His attention was drawn to a grave a good distance to the right. He thought that he recognized a familiar silhouette, and confirmed as much as he looked through the binoculars.

"What're looking at?" Green noticed Bobby was not looking at the 50 or so mourner's at the funeral, but was looking at the solitary woman kneeling in front of a grave. "Never mind," Green said, grabbing the binoculars away from Bobby. "There's our relief." Green gestured to a car pulling up at a distance on another road within the cemetery. "So, as of right now, we belong to the Willis case."

"See you at the house in 45." Lupo said to Bobby as they got into their car.

Bobby nodded, but he did not get into his car right away. He looked at the woman across the cemetery. He would know her any where, at any distance. He watched Lucy Jones kneeling in front of her parents' graves. Then, he watched her stand, reaching her hand out to their head stones. He knew that she was leaving behind a small polished stone on each of their grave markers.

He figured if she was headed back to the office he could give her a ride and not lose anytime on his way to the 2-7. He knew for the next few days he would be totally consumed by this case. So, without thinking about it much further, he kind of jogged out across the grass to catch her. He found himself wondering why she was here and how she had gotten here. He also wondered why she hadn't mentioned it to him when he had seen her that morning.

"Lucy." Bobby called her name. She had turned and was walking toward the cemetery entrance.

"Oh my god, Bobby, you just about scared me to death." She said, her hand on her chest, her dark hazel eyes wide with surprise.

"Funny." Bobby said, looking around the cemetery, at the funeral in progress, thinking about this place full of death.

"Right." Lucy smiled, a bit wanly. "Not too funny." She said, pointing out the dark side of his comment.

"I have a car. Do you need a ride some place?" Bobby gestured back up the hill and watched her follow his gesture to look at his car.

"What're doing here?" She asked.

"Meeting someone." He admitted, well at least partially admitted the truth. He thought that she would have something to say in response, like ask him who he was meeting, but she didn't. She simply looked back up at him, tears in her eyes.

"I'm headed back to the office." She said, and just as quickly as they appeared, her tears were gone.

"How'd you get here?" Bobby asked, looking around for someone else.

"Bruce, he dropped me off. He offered to stay, but I told him I had a ride back." Lucy offered.

"You what? You have a ride back?" Bobby looked around.

"I do now." She said, walking with him back to his car.

"But you didn't, that is you didn't have a ride back." Bobby watched her, thinking she was acting a little peculiar.

"I would've called a cab or something. I just wanted to stay a while, and I didn't want Bruce fretting over me." Lucy sighed.

"Why would he be fretting over you?" Bobby could feel concern welling in his chest. He was wondering, was there something to fret about?

"Hovering. I didn't want him hovering." Lucy tried to use a different word, but it wasn't lost on Bobby that she was upset about something. He watched her get into the passenger side of the car as he slid into the driver's side.

"Lucy…" Bobby started to ask her what was going on, but she cut him off.

"You were meeting someone at a funeral?" She asked, blatantly changing the subject away from herself, revealing that she had deduced his presence at the cemetery had something to do with the funeral in progress. Again, she was only partially right.

"Yeah, I love funerals." Bobby smiled, making fun of himself. She of all people knew how much he despised funerals.

"Doesn't everyone." Lucy responded enigmatically, and kind of leaned her head tiredly against the passenger side window.

"Lucy what's…" Bobby started to try and ask again.

"You know, I'm heading to California this afternoon. For three nights." She offered, again changing the subject away from her current mood. But this time the distraction worked. If she was going to California, she was going to spend time with Skoda.

"When?" Bobby asked, as he drove through the city toward her office building.

"I sent you my flight information." Lucy offered, no longer leaning her head against the window. Bobby's brow furrowed. Her relationship with Skoda was complicated. He knew that Lucy loved Emil Skoda. Skoda had asked her to marry him, but Lucy had not yet responded. Bobby's brain stalled a bit, trying to think about, and also not think about, what would come from the weekend together.

There was a time, Bobby knew, when he had first met Lucy that she had spent a lot of time standing close to him, almost waiting for him to kiss her, to make some kind of move on her. But he wasn't ready. And, he knew that she wasn't ready, that she was rebounding around in the relationship she had with Skoda. So he had held back. And now that time was gone. She no longer stood close to him waiting for him to kiss her. He realized that she stood close to him all the time, just not in that way, just not with those signals. He wondered about those signals.

"Bobby." She said his name and tapped the glass of her window, indicating they were about to pass her building.

"Oh." Bobby swerved over, double parking to let her out.

"Thanks." Lucy looked at him for a moment, and he thought that she was going to say something, but she didn't. She simply looked at him for a moment. Then he thought she was going to reach out and touch him, but she didn't. She looked so sad, and he realized that she had successfully distracted him from asking her why she had been in the cemetery visiting the graves of her parents.

"Yeah, um, Lucy…" Bobby leaned over as she moved to get out of the car. Horns were honking behind him, pissing him off.

"I'm OK. I'll call you from California." She smiled her best I'm OK smile at him, but he wasn't convinced. He reached out and briefly touched her hand before she stepped away to close the door. She looked at him, and he held her eyes for a moment, trying to read her, trying to read her thoughts. "Thanks for showing up like that." She said, as if he had some control over their meeting by chance. It kind of irrationally occurred to him that she was always thanking God for things, maybe sometimes in small ways that paid off.

Horns were honking louder, and he knew he needed to get to the 2-7. He nodded, and let her hand go. He watched her cross through the parked cars and onto the sidewalk then into her building. So, he swerved back into traffic and recognized that he had about 10 minutes of driving time to get his brain off Lucy and back on the case at hand. He doubted he would be completely successful.

* * *

**Authors Note:** I think people are reading (from that chapter hit stat). That was funeral number 2. The next chapter will be funeral number 3 – a character most of you should know… Reviews are welcomed :) 


	4. Chapter 4

As Bobby Goren stood outside Lucy's door, he realized he was so drunk he could not even manage to knock. So, he simply pounded his forehead against the door, once maybe twice. The lights came on right away, as if she had been waiting for him. He could hear the locks open, and he knew the door was soon to follow, but he couldn't seem to command his limbs to move, so when she opened the door, he literally fell onto the floor of her entry way.

"Oh my God, Bobby." She said, her voice a soft whisper, as she knelt beside him. There she went again, invoking God in the things she said. He smiled, or at least he thought he did, as he pushed himself up to his knees, he only used God to take his name in vain, she used God in a way to give her strength.

"Sorry." Bobby mumbled, barely comprehensible.

"You should've called." Lucy said, kind of helping him to his feet, a little too quickly because as soon as he stood he over rotated and slammed backward into the wall.

"You can't drive." He mumbled, his eyes closed, as he leaned against the wall, trying to gain some semblance of balance.

"You could've called." She said, standing close to him, almost touching him, not knowing what to do.

Jimmy Deakins was dead. He had died of an aneurism in his sleep. Peaceful, the people kept saying all day long. Peaceful. Bobby thought that death was probably anything but peaceful. It certainly did not leave a peaceful feeling for the people left walking this earth.

The funeral had been that morning. What felt like hundreds of people crowded into the church, crowded into the Deakins home, to be near Jimmy Deakins one last time, to give sympathies to his wife, to hug his daughters. The funeral had been attended by cops mostly, which Bobby found ironic, for it had been cops that had chased Deakins out of the department.

Lucy had attended the funeral. She had known Jimmy Deakins as well, and was friendly with some of his friends. Though, Lucy had attended by herself, encouraging Bobby to go with Eames and Logan, and even Barek had come back for a few days. Even though people close to Bobby knew of the friendship he had with Lucy, not a lot of people in the department were aware of the connection. So Bobby kind of kept his distance from Lucy at the funeral reception at the Deakins home, but he couldn't seem to help himself from watching her.

At one point, he found himself leaning just inside a doorway to a room, out and out starting at her. She was talking with one of Jimmy's daughters. Lucy was holding a baby across her left shoulder, maybe about 5 or 6 months old. The baby had been fussy at first, probably picking up on the stress of the day. But Lucy had simply laid a blanket over her shoulder, gently put the baby across, and was stroking the baby's back as she talked to the mother. After a few minutes, the baby was dropping off to sleep. Lucy was probably one of the most centered people Bobby knew, and even that little baby had appreciated that fact after just few minutes of contact.

Bobby found himself remembering that day in the car. The day Lucy had fallen into pieces. She had thought she was pregnant, and probably she had been, or at least her hormone levels had said she was. But when she had gone in for her visit, there had been no heart beat and no sign of a developing pregnancy. She had barely been able to say the words to him. For a moment, he had not known what to do. They were sitting in his car on the side of a city street. He had gotten out, taken a deep breath of cold winter air, and come around to her side. When he had opened the door, thinking about getting her out of the car, maybe going for something to drink, she liked tea, maybe he could find a place with the kind of tea she liked. But when he had opened the door, he realized there was only one thing to do, so he reached in and pulled her forward into his arms. In the end he had lamely suggested they go for ice cream. She had smiled a bit at that. He thought maybe she was smiling of the ridiculousness of the suggestion, ice cream on such a cold winter's day, or that ice cream would make the hurt go away. But he didn't care; whatever he had done had been the right thing. She brought that out in him, he realized, she brought out the right thing in people.

"Bobby." She said his name softly. He had pretty much passed out leaning against the wall in her entryway.

"Sorry." He muttered the word again, trying to focus on her. He had gone out with Eames, Logan, and Barek afterward, for a wake of sorts. He and Logan had quickly gotten drunk, and that went quickly from recounting different times, to Bobby feeling very belligerent. Fortunately, Bobby was only feeling belligerent. Unfortunately, Logan started acting that way. So, Eames and Barek had beat feet, to leave Bobby with Logan. In the end the bartender had cut Logan off. Bobby dimly remembered that fact, because he himself was almost passed out across the table.

"Bobby." Lucy softly said his name again, as if to bring him around.

"Sorry." Bobby replied, managing to stand on his own. She helped him to the couch in her family room, kind of controlled his fall until he was lying down. She pulled off his shoes, and threw and afghan over him.

Bobby was thinking about Jimmy Deakins dying of an aneurism in his sleep. A lot of people had mentioned the Bell's Palsy from a few years back, and wondered about the connection between that condition and the aneurism. The paralyses from Bell's Palsy was idiopathic, and the idiopathic nature is what made it Bell's Palsy. And, while Bobby intellectually knew there was likely no connection, emotionally he could feel his chest constrict. He couldn't help but think of Lucy, of her seizures, of her migraines, of her doctor's saying they had ruled out a lot of the serious potential causes. He reached for her before she could walk away, and pulled her into his arms on the sofa. She didn't resist him. It was as if she knew he just needed to hold onto her for a while. She felt so tiny against him.

He remembered he had been standing nearby when she had paid her respects at the closed casket. He had heard her say "until we meet again, may God holdyou in the hollow of his hand." He recognized the words as part of an Irish blessing, and in as much as Lucy was not Irish, Jimmy Deakins had been, and the words carried great weight, and conveyed her generous heart. He thought of those words, and prayed that God hold her in the hollow of his hand, and keep her safe, and keep her healthy - funny thinking from someone with out a lot of faith in God.

"Bobby." He heard her say his name one last time, and he thought about apologizing, as if it was the only word his brain could form. He felt like such a sorry soul. He felt sorry that he just couldn't seem to pull it all back together. He felt sorry for constantly showing up at her door step like some bedraggled stray cat. But he couldn't seem to say anything; he just let his brain close to black.

* * *

Bobby's brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton and his eyes felt like they were glued shut. He was lying very still trying to decide if he was going to get sick, when he realized that he was holding someone in his arms. He could feel her slender spine curved close against his chest, and he could feel her soft curls catch against his unshaven face. He lay there trying to remember last night, trying to remember how it came to be that he should be asleep, with Lucy, on her couch. Yesterday had been a miserable day. He hated funerals. 

He opened his eyes slowly, almost painfully against the rising light of dawn in the room. He wasn't sure if he felt sick, or if he still felt drunk. Each time he did this himself, he told himself he needed to start acting differently. He randomly remembered something Mike Logan had said recently - _I feel sorry for people who don't drink. They wake up in the morning and that's the best they're going to feel all day_. He realized his life was more Fitzgerald lately - _first you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you_. He remembered when he had used that Fitzgerald quote in response to Mike Logan, Logan had said Lucy had used the same one.

He reached forward and ran his left hand down her left arm, feeling her smooth bare skin underneath his palm. She was wearing a cotton camisole and flannel pajama pants and socks. Her arms were cold, and he thought about pulling the blanket up and around her, when his eyes caught sight of something, something that really made him feel like he was going to be sick. He recognized the pattern immediately, the pattern of bruising on her upper left arm – a thumb print and three finger prints.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews. They motivated me to go ahead and put this chapter in writing. I loved Jimmy Deakins. I was so sad when the character left the show. And since I will never get to see him again, I suppose he is "dead to me." So, sorry for making him dead to you too. Poor Bobby, I can't possibly leave him on even footing. It sucks that LOCI may not come back any time soon. I am left with the misery Bobby was feeling in _Untethered_, so I keep revolving him back to it in my writing. 


	5. Chapter 5

In a not especially graceful maneuver, Bobby extracted himself from the couch practically dumping Lucy onto the floor. He went straight for the bathroom and plunged his hands into cold water, splashing it across his face. When he closed his eyes he could see that pattern of bruises burned into his brain. He prayed that his eyes were tricking him. He had spent nearly 72 hours straight combing over evidence with Green and Lupo. They were trying to find common denominators, common anything across the 4 victims. For every list of possibilities they developed, another list was thrown aside. In the end, they had somewhat sickeningly resigned themselves to the fact that there would likely be another victim before they had a strong lead. Then, the news of Jimmy Deakins passing had spread like wild fire throughout NYPD. So, Bobby had been pulled back to Major Case for a day, and then spent yesterday afternoon at a funeral and last night drinking himself stupid.

Who to call? Bobby fished his phone out of his pocket, looking at the screen. Eames? No, she was probably still sleeping off last night and she was not working on this case. Strange his brain went to her. Ross? No, Bobby felt he didn't really quite know enough yet to call Ross. Detective Ed Green? Yes.

"Green." Ed Green answered the phone, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"Green this is Goren." Bobby said into the phone, he was still standing in the bathroom, so he sounded like he was at the bottom of a well.

"Do we have another victim?" Green snapped awake.

"Not exactly, but I have something. Could you meet me at…" Bobby gave Green Lucy's address.

"Yeah, sure, I'll call you from the car, you can fill me in." Green responded.

Bobby came out of the bathroom and returned to the family room. Lucy was no where in sight. He could hear her in the kitchen; he could smell the beginnings of coffee. He walked in and could see her spreading butter on a piece of toast, eating part of it as she walked across the kitchen and pulled her medication from the cabinet. She was wearing a sweat shirt, so he could not see her arms. He did not know what distracted him more, the need to see her arms, or the pills she was taking. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried for a deep breath.

"How did you get those bruises on your arm?" Bobby said, his voice raspy, his eyes still closed. Lucy turned to look at him, setting her glass of water aside.

"What?" She looked at her arms, at the heavy sweatshirt material, and looked at him. He walked across the kitchen toward her.

"On your upper left arm, you have some bruises." Bobby said, again trying for a deep breath. Puzzled she looked at her left arm. "Could you take your sweat shirt off?" Bobby asked, reaching for her sweatshirt. He was amazed. Without even asking why, as if she trusted him completely, she automatically did as he asked. "Those bruises." Bobby saw them, a thumb print and three finger prints.

Lucy looked at them, reaching out with her right hand to run her fingers across them. But, Bobby caught her hand and stopped her from touching the marks, as if the remnant of whoever had caused them would hurt her further if she actually touched them.

"At the funeral yesterday, I was coming up the front steps, and I tripped. Someone caught me by my arm to keep me from falling." Lucy looked at the bruises and back at Bobby.

"Who, who grabbed you?" Bobby asked, trying to keep his voice even, keep his voice low.

"I didn't know him. Medium build, maybe 5'10", brown hair, White." She provided, her eyes never leaving Bobby's. He could see her breathing change from normal and even to short and shallow. She was scared, but she was not yet letting on.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, yeah I think so." Lucy replied, "What is it?" She asked.

"A case I'm working. This pattern of bruises is distinct, it is in common…" Bobby stopped himself from what he was about to say.

"It is in common across the victims?" Lucy finished his statement, looking at the bruises on her arm as if seeing them for the first time. "A thumb and three fingers. No small finger print." Lucy mumbled to herself. Bobby watched her close her eyes. "He had all of his fingers, why didn't he leave a small finger print." She said, and she had answered his next question. Bobby could see her start trembling, looking at the bruises on her arm.

"I called Detective Green from the 2-7, I have been working the case with him. He is on his way over." Bobby supplied, thinking that Green would probably be calling him for details in a moment or so.

"You what?" Lucy asked, now she was full on shaking.

"I called Detective Green…" Bobby started to repeat himself, but he realized that she had probably heard him the first time. "You can put your sweatshirt back on." Bobby said, keeping his tone soft, easy. He took the sweatshirt from her hands and helped her slide it over her head.

"The 2-7. Detective Green, he's working the Megan Willis case." Lucy said, slipping her arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt. She then wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if to try to keep herself from shaking. "Is this connected?" Lucy asked. She looked at Bobby. "It is. It is connected." She could see it on his face. "How many victims?"

"Four." Bobby replied, not seeing any reason to soft peddle. Lucy would want to know, she was about to know as soon as Green arrived, so he might as well give it to her straight. So, he filled her in with details appropriate to share. When he finished, she had stopped trembling, she was standing very still, her arms still wrapped around herself.

His phone was ringing, he could see it was Ed Green. He picked up the phone and filled Green in on where he was, who he was with, the bruises on her arm, what she had said about them. In his gut, Bobby knew it was connected. He knew that Lucy was in for a long day, a long few days. If this guy was at all connected to NYPD, which was likely if he was at Jimmy Deakins funeral, then he could know about the connection they had made between the victims, he could know about the distinct pattern of bruises. Bobby needed to lock this down, secure the information they had, protect Lucy.

When he hung up from Green, he thought about who to call. Eames? No. Why did his brain always go to Eames? Ross? No, again, his brain went to Ross. At the end of the day, Bobby guessed that Ross had his back. But Ross was not the guy to keep Lucy safe. Ross would be his next call, to help him keep the information safe. Bobby knew who to call, he knew who would come into this, be able to keep a cool head, and think only of Lucy. So, in as much as some strange part of him hated the idea, he dialed Emil Skoda.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yikes! It is cold outside where I live. So, I have been noodling around in this story. As always, thanks for taking the time to drop a review and let me know what you are thinking. 


	6. Chapter 6

"You got something going on with her?" Green was asking Bobby as they stood in the 2-7 station room. Bobby looked at the other detective without saying anything, and looked back at Lucy who was working with a sketch artist, composing a picture of the guy that had grabbed her. "Cause, you were at her place, at like 6:00 this morning, you saw those bruises on her arm, its pretty cold outside and she had on that sweatshirt when I got there. You can't see her arms through a sweatshirt," Green kept talking, Bobby was still not responding. "I guess if you don't have anything going on, then maybe I could ask her out." Green finished, the last part he was just kidding, trying to get a response from Bobby, but Bobby was not in a kidding mood.

Bobby stalked off, out of the squad room and down the hall. He felt like he was going to explode. The morning had been a series of hurry up and wait. Bobby was not very good at the wait part. They had spent what felt like forever waiting for CSU to collect whatever evidence might have been left, on her clothes, photographing her arm. Then they hurried to the station house, and spent another interminable amount of time waiting for the sketch artist. They had secured the guest book from the funeral, and started fleshing out the list of attendees and their possible guests, profiling them, cutting the list back down by gender, by race/ethnicity, by general appearance, by existence of priors. Bobby had been thrown out of the room when the sketch artist at arrived, his lurking and invasion of personal space was distracting the man and slowing things down.

He got to the end of the hallway and turned the corner, not really having any idea where he was going. So he opened the door to an empty interview room and slammed inside. He stood for a moment, his breathing ragged, uneven. He realized he had his large leather portfolio in his hands and he just started slamming it against the wall. He had so much frustration pent up inside, and no where to put it, so he just kind of exploded and took his anger out on his portfolio and on the wall.

"Bobby." Lucy said. He stopped kind of mid-banging around at the sound of her voice. He hadn't heard her come in. He turned to face her, both hands still on his portfolio, his breathing ragged, panting. He half way expected her to kind of roll her eyes out of exasperation, but that was more Eames style. Instead, Lucy stepped forward and placed her hands on the portfolio, alongside his. "It's OK. I'm OK." She said, looking up at him.

"I can see that. You're standing here, he didn't hurt you, you're standing here." He repeated, still out of breath, "In the middle of an NYPD squad room, surrounded by cops. I can see you're OK." He said, still not getting himself quite under control.

"That's not what I meant. I'm OK. The medicine I'm on, it seems to be working, I don't feel as nauseous. The most recent round of tests, the EEG, the scans, nothing is showing up that suggests anything serious. I'm OK." Lucy said, taking him completely off guard. He gasped in for air, realizing that she had seen through what was in front of him, she had seen through to what had been torturing him since he had heard of Jimmy Deakins dying in the middle of the night. He was almost suffocating on his own fears for her health, for her well being. The thought of someone else dying, it felt like it might kill him.

He thought he could almost control the physical threat of someone hurting her. He had spent the morning doing everything within his power to keep her safe. Emil Skoda had pulled strings with Jack McCoy, so Lucy when Lucy left the police station she was about to become just about the safest person in New York. But he had absolutely no control of her health, over her migraines, over the seizure she had experienced.

"Lucy…" He started to say, but he couldn't find his voice. He tried for another breath.

"Bobby, I'm OK. Look at me. I'm OK." She repeated the words. She moved her hands closer to his, her fingers barely touching his fingers.

"Right." He said the word, managing a breath, his voice breaking a little, his hands shaking a little. She took the portfolio out of his hands and set it aside on the interview table. He couldn't help but reach out and pull one of her curls straight, and watch it bounce back into place. She smiled over this familiar gesture of his. "The other day, in the cemetery..." He said, thinking back to what seemed like forever ago, but it was only a few days ago.

"My parents, you know, their 40th wedding anniversary would have been this month." She replied. He watched the sadness return to her eyes. Bobby looked at her for a moment, wondering how it would feel to have parents who would have been married for 40 years. He also thought about how difficult it must be for her to think about marriage. She had been headed off to California that day to see Skoda, an offer of marriage pending. He wanted to ask her about it, but he refrained. "I finished the sketch. That is, the artist is finished with the sketch." She offered.

He stood close to her, but not touching her. He nodded, and his breathing was back under control. He watched her pick up his portfolio and hand it to him. He opened the door to the interview room and let her precede him down the hall. He felt a bit clearer now, a bit more focused. He had no idea how she knew what was on his mind, but she always seemed to see through the surface, to see through the obvious. She constantly amazed him in that regard.

* * *

"Goren." Bobby paused, he was coming up the stairs and almost ran into Emil Skoda. They stood facing each other in silence for a moment. "Thanks, thanks for calling me." Skoda said after a very long, pregnant pause. Bobby simply nodded, and moved to step around the other man. 

It had been about 3:00am when Bobby had dialed Skoda's cell phone that morning, 3:00am in California anyway. The conversation had been brief. Skoda hadn't wasted time on the phone pressing Bobby for a lot of details. He had simply taken Bobby at his word, that he needed to return to New York as soon as possible. Bobby respected that, and he figured Skoda must've caught the 6:00am to JFK, it was just before 4:00pm in New York. Bobby was exhausted, a combination of stress and an excruciating hangover that he hadn't quite rehydrated from. They had copies of the sketch. Unfortunately the suspect had been wearing dark sunglasses and a winter cap, but they were working through a data base of photographs with face recognition software, and also canvassing the mourner's at the funeral. Bobby was thinking the canvas might yield something, especially with the potential of something wrong with the suspects right hand.

"Where's Lucy?" Skoda asked, looking at the stairwell and back at Goren.

"What?" Bobby stopped, Skoda gaining his attention.

"She's with you…" Skoda offered. "The uniform said she was with you…" Skoda clarified.

"The uniform?" Bobby asked, his brain starting to buzz, his thoughts starting to spin sideways, why would someone think Lucy was with him. Lucy was not with him, she was in conference room C, a uniform outside the door.

"Where is Lucy?" Skoda asked again. Bobby did not reply, he headed down the hall for conference room C. The room was empty, there was no uniform outside the door. People were starting to respond to the commotion, Bobby had slammed the conference room door open, and slammed it closed, he was yelling at the nearest uniformed officer, asking for the location of Lucy Jones, asking for the location of the uniform who was supposed to be watching her.

* * *

**Author's Note**: It is still frigid where I live, and I'm going a litte stir crazt - so instead of spending time outside with my family and our dog, I have been inside toying with my computer watching everyone play the Wii. Thanks for the reviews! As long as I know you are reading, I will keep on posting :) 


	7. Chapter 7

"Where the hell is Keenan?" Bobby was looking down the hall, looking for the uniformed officer that was assigned to Lucy. His mind was vibrating, trying to figure out all of the possibilities.

"Where is Lucy Jones?" Bobby ground out as Officer Keenan came down the hall. Inside, Bobby felt like he was hyperventilating, he imagined himself taking Keenan and slamming him repeatedly against the wall much like he had done to his portfolio a little while ago.

"With Officer Goren." Keenan responded, standing his ground.

"I'm Officer Goren." Bobby bit back, but he stood still and managed to refrain from grabbing a hold of the uniformed officer. "I'm….. Officer….. Goren." Bobby repeated saying the words slowly, more clearly, glaring at Keenan, waiting what seemed like forever for some kind of response.

"Then, she is with Officer Green." Keenan replied, still managing to stand his ground. Bobby looked at the young uniformed officer, trying to comprehend the shift in what he had said. "I switched your names. I was introduced to you both at the same time." Keenan added.

"What?" Bobby looked down the hall. Officers were continuing to come out into the corridor, curious about the commotion.

"Lucy Jones is with Officer Green." Keenan repeated. Bobby looked at the man, still fighting the urge to grab a hold of him.

"Goren." Green called down the hall. "She is with me. She is right here." Bobby turned slowly to look at Green, his mind still playing through somehow, someone grabbing up Lucy out of the station. He turned, trying to focus on Green, and he saw Lucy come out into the corridor. He took a deep breath, his whole chest rising and falling. He ran the back of his hand across his face, and took another deep breath.

"Lucy." It was Emil Skoda that called her name. Bobby watched Skoda quickly close the distance and pull Lucy into his arms, kissing her temples, kissing her face, running his hands across her hair, speaking to her softly. Bobby realized that Skoda had been thinking the same thing, feeling the same constriction in his chest, in his brain. If Bobby had been alone with Lucy, he would have grabbed her up into his arms, with the need to touch her, to feel her solid form, to look into her eyes and assure himself that she was OK. As it was, Bobby stood almost paralyzed to the spot, watching Skoda hold Lucy.

"You all have work, get to it." It was Lupo that spoke next, coming into the small crowd in the hallway, telling people to move along. Bobby stood, still transfixed, still letting it sink in that Lucy was right there. He could see her shaking, trembling as Skoda held her. He could see her face buried in Skoda's shoulder. Bobby thought about the excruciatingly long day, how Lucy had managed to keep it all together, how she hadn't shown any outward sign that she was affected by the fact that the prime suspect in a multiple homicide had touched her, had grabbed her just about 24 hours ago.

"Goren." Ed Green was standing beside Bobby, looking at Bobby watching Lucy, thinking about what he had asked about earlier, about something going on between Bobby and Lucy. He could see it on Bobby's face right now. "Goren." Green repeated, finally getting his attention.

"Sorry." Bobby mumbled, looking at Green.

"We have some hits, from that photo software. We have some addresses to chase down." Green offered, exchanging a look with Lupo because Bobby's attention had turned again, back down the hallway where Skoda held Lucy. Bobby again rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair.

"Right, lets go." Bobby replied, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Bobby headed for the stairwell while Green and Lupo stopped by their desks to grab their gear. Bobby thought that he just needed to get outside, he just needed to get some air. He was grateful for the few moments alone. His mind was trying to make his mind switch gears. He was starting to slow down from the adrenaline rush he had experienced when he thought that Lucy had been snatched up out of the precinct.

"Bobby, wait." Lucy surprised him by calling after him in the stairwell. Bobby was just about headed out of the stairwell door onto the main precinct floor. He turned to watch Lucy coming down the steps after him. He could tell she wanted to say something. He could see an officer and one other man coming down the stairs behind her. Perhaps she wanted to wait until the last two people on the stairwell had passed them by. So Bobby waited in the stairwell door, waiting to be alone with her for a moment. Lucy was standing in front of him, looking up at him, and it took every fiber of his being not to reach out and touch her, like he had wanted to upstairs in the hall. He kept his eyes on Lucy, but as he looked at her, something caught his eye, someone caught his eye.

In Bobby's brain, the next few minutes happened in slow motion. The other man on the stairs, the one not in uniform, medium build, maybe 5'10", brown hair, White, knocked into the uniformed officer that remained on the stairs, grabbed his weapon, lunged forward, grabbing Lucy. He threw the officer down the stairs, and the officer slammed into Bobby, almost knocking him over, almost knocking him out of the stairwell door. Bobby managed to remain in the doorway, stepping over the officer who slid out onto the main precinct floor. Bobby drew his weapon, but the man had Lucy.

The man yanked her up a few steps and pulled her back against him. He held the gun in his right hand. Bobby could see his fingers flexed around the grip, except the small finger, which was hyper extended, as if it lacked a range of motion. This was the man, there was no doubt in Bobby's mind. Bobby's thoughts were amazingly clear, he needed to slow this down, he needed to keep the man's attention and slow this down.

"This all happened kind of fast." The man was saying, and it took a moment for Bobby to realize he was talking. The man was talking to him. "That girl, she got away from me, she was fast, that happened too fast." The man said.

Bobby guessed he was referring to Megan Willis. She was the only victim who hadn't been brutalized in some fashion, who hadn't been strangled. It really did appear as if Megan Willis had died from the fall. But the fall hadn't been accidental; it had been preceded by a struggle, which led to the pattern of finger print bruises on her collar bone.

"You - you put it all together in just a few hours." The man said. Lucy had closed her eyes. Bobby could practically feel her breath coming in short uneven gasps. "So I followed you, you know, to see you, so fast, super fast." The man said, Bobby thought that this revealed how he came to be at the funeral. The man had been following him. Bobby really hadn't seen Lucy in the days leading up to the funeral. She had been in California. So the man probably had no idea of the connection between Lucy and Bobby. He probably had automatically, almost randomly reached out to grab her as she tripped.

Bobby realized Ed Green was standing beside him, out of view, just outside the stairwell doors. Green had come down to the main precinct floor another way. Bobby guessed they had secured the top entrances to the stairwell, so no other people could accidentally enter and unintentionally escalate things. Green was holding a piece of paper with the man's name written in large letters that Bobby could read in his peripheral vision – _Justin Kemp_. Then Green switched the paper – _messenger for ME's office_. Bobby had an ID on the guy. This would help give him an edge.

"OK Justin, slow it down, no one is moving fast right now." Bobby said, his voice slow and even.

"So fast, you even know my name. So clever." Justin was saying, moving the gun closer to her head, placing his other hand around her neck, squeezing her neck, obstructing her breathing. Bobby was looking for a shot, a clear shot that would not endanger Lucy. Justin was starting to strangle her.

* * *

**A/N: ...more to come, soon **


	8. Chapter 8

"Slip, slip, slip away." Justin mumbled to himself as he choked the air out of Lucy. Bobby's eyes moved from Justin's face, to Lucy. "Shhh." Justin said into Lucy's ear, as she gasped for air. Bobby could tell she was still breathing, he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest, but he was running out of time, Justin was going to strangle Lucy right in front of him. He needed a clear shot, he needed find a clear shot.

BAM. On his own, Justin Kemp found the clear shot, and took it himself, right through his head. Bobby barely had time to react as Justin threw Lucy forward, releasing the hold on her neck, moving the gun from Lucy to just underneath his chin. Blood exploded everywhere, all over the wall, across Lucy. Justin Kemp dropped to the stairs like a sack of flour, Lucy fell forward, blood across her back, some on her face. Bobby opened his arms and caught her squarely against his chest as she fell.

She was coughing, wiping at herself, at the blood, smearing the blood across her clothes across her hands. She ran her arm across her face, trying to get the blood off her face. She was panicked, pushing against Bobby, trying to get free, trying to get away from the stairwell. Bobby could see Green followed by two other detectives rushing into the upper entrance of the stairwell, running down the stairs.

Bobby did his best to keep Lucy against him, holding her hard while she struggled violently in his arms. She was trying to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. Bobby carried her out of the doorway, onto the main floor of the precinct. Her breath was coming in loud gasps; she was still struggling to wipe the blood away, to get away. It took him a moment, but he could hear her, he could hear her voice so soft, she probably wasn't aware she was saying it – "oh God, oh my God, oh God."

"Lucy, I've got you. I've got you." Bobby was whispering in her ear, holding her close, touching her hair, pressing her face into his chest. She continued to struggle wildly against him, horrified by the blood. "Lucy." He repeated her name, moving his arms more securely around her, crushing her against him, and then suddenly he could feel her go still in his arms. She kind of went limp, and he realized his holding her was keeping her from falling to the floor.

Officers were pushing past them into the stairwell, so Bobby scooped her up completely off her feet and carried her across the main floor into the desk Sergeant's office. He sat down with her on his lap. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell she had not fainted, he could tell she was with him.

"Lucy, I've got you." Bobby repeated the words. He ran his hand across her face, across her cheek. She started to move, and at first he couldn't figure out what she was doing. Then he could see that she was pulling at her sweater, trying to get out of it, away from the blood. This time instead of holding her, instead of steadying her, he helped her. He lifted the sweater over hear head, throwing it aside, away from her view. He watched her fight her way out of her jeans, throwing them aside, getting away from the blood. She was standing in her bra and underwear, shaking, running her hands across her bare skin, going into shock, still trying to get away from the blood.

Someone was pounding at the office door. Bobby hadn't realized it was locked. He watched Lucy drop to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs, placing her forehead on her knees, she was rocking and shaking. Without completely unbuttoning it, he took his dress shirt off over his head, leaving himself in his black undershirt, he quickly placed his shirt over Lucy. The knocking was louder.

"Goren. Open the door, open the damn door." Bobby recognized Lupo's voice. Bobby realized as soon as he did, people would explode into the room, chaos would explode into the room.

"Lucy." Bobby moved to crouch in front of her, placing his hands on her arms, imploring her to look at him. "I need to open the door." He said the words, and she looked up at him. Her eyes dilated with fear, with shock, but she was nodding as if she understood what he was saying. He reached out, cupping her face in his hand.

"Open the damn door." It was Lupo again, Bobby could hear keys. He knew that they were opening the door. Lucy was moving to stand, she was shaking, but she was moving to stand. Bobby placed his arm around her, helping her the rest of the way on with his shirt, buttoning it up to cover her a bit better. The shirt looked enormous on her, coming to her knees, it would have easily wrapped around her twice.

Just as Bobby had predicted, people rushed in. For a moment longer he held her, tightly against him, until Lieutenant Van Buren gently took her away. Then he sat down hard, placing his face in his hands. Officers were talking, some were talking to him, there was still a good amount of shouting out on the main precinct floor. He didn't hear much of it, his eyes were closed, and in his mind he could still clearly see Lucy in front of him, shaking, trying to wipe the blood off of herself, wrestling her clothes away from her skin. Oh my God. Bobby whispered the words, her words, to himself.

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**Author's note:** Wow, thanks for all the reviews. My brain has been vibrating (like Bobby's) thinking about how to play this... 


	9. Chapter 9

The day was warm and sunny, uncharacteristic for the late winter month. Bobby knew that it was just a hint of spring, and the cold winter wind would soon return for another few weeks before spring really set in. Even though the Megan Willis case was pretty much closed the moment Justin Kemp shot himself in the head, in an attempt to better understand why Kemp had done the things he had done, for a sense of personal closure Bobby continued to put details together.

As a messenger for the Medical Examiner's office, Kemp had a lot of contact with the deceased. He was in and out of exam rooms each day, and Bobby figured that escalated Kemp's obsession with death. Strangling his victims probably gave Kemp a euphoric rush, as he felt the life slowly slip away from his victims. Megan Willis had somehow gotten away and Kemp had chased her over the retaining wall, only a 4 foot climb on the face of it, but a 20 foot drop on the backside. Someone unfamiliar with the area would not have realized they were about to drop 2 stories on the other side.

Bobby had no idea how long he had sat with his head in his hands in the desk Sergeant's office. He did know that the first voice he heard, and fully comprehended was Eames. She came in and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and without much preamble started filling him on in details, confirming that Kemp was deceased, stating that they had taken Lucy to the ER, letting him know that Green and Lupo were on top of making certain evidence was collected that definitively connected Kemp to all four murder victims, and finally offering to drive him to the ER where they had taken Lucy. The last part was what motivated Bobby to stand, to move. He realized that he needed to get to where Lucy was, that the rest could wait. Eames smoothed the way, and by talking with Captain Ross, helped make that happen.

Five days later, Bobby walked across the cemetery. He could see the funeral for Justin Kemp about 300 yards away - just a few people in attendance, a mother, a sister, a brother. But Bobby was not here for the funeral, he was here to see Lucy. He had called her office, her home, her cell phone, she had not answered. Bobby had closed his eyes, thinking about how many days had passed since Justin Kemp had almost strangled Lucy in the stairwell, he figured that today they would likely be burying Kemp. It did not take Bobby long to obtain the details of the burial. And, on a gamble, he had driven out to the cemetery.

"Bobby." Lucy said, looking up at him. She was sitting on a bench, a good distance away from the funeral, but it was obvious to Bobby that she was there to watch them put Justin Kemp into the ground. He knew that she was not there out of spite or vengeance, she was there for her own closure, to watch this man, this violent man, get laid to rest. "What're you doing here?" Lucy asked.

"Looking for you." Bobby replied, sitting down next to her.

"How did you…" Lucy started to ask, but stopped. She knew that Bobby probably knew her better than just about anyone, so it was silly to ask how he guessed she was here.

They sat for a long time in silence, well after the mother, the sister, and the brother had departed. Bobby slowly put his arm around Lucy, pulling her close to him, feeling her warmth against him.

"When I was in California, I told Emil I would marry him." Lucy's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "In the fall, the wedding would be in the fall." Lucy said. Bobby sighed, but he did not say anything. He kept his arm around her, keeping her close. He closed his eyes against the warm, bright sun and thought to himself that the fall was months away, and that today he did not need to think about what she had just said, that today, he was content to sit with her, and hold her, and soak up the sun.

* * *

**Author's Note**: So, there is the fourth funeral and the wedding (so to speak). I have to leave room to where my brain might wander. You know, Valentine's Day is coming… so my brain is feeling kind of shifty. Like shifty to a new story, maybe shifty back to Lucy's point of view… hmmm… 


End file.
